It is not easy to face the past. It is not easy to face your mistakes. It is a particularly terrible pain to face the consequences of your past when they break back into the life you have now. I don't believe in regrets. I don't believe in letting your past define you. I believe in learning from your mistakes and growing stronger and smarter because of them. I believe that God works all things together for the good of those who believe in him. I believe it with every ounce of my soul.

And then... Wham. The past will resurface and punch me in the face. All of the sudden I am faced with all sorts of complicated emotions that I thought I had left in the past with my mistakes. Guilt. Sorrow. Anger. Pain. Hurt that was long buried rises up in my soul. I become overwhelmed with emotion and it reminds me of a cold hard truth.

I am broken. I am a sinner. I fall short of God's glory in every way possible. I will never be "good" enough. I will never make it through life without facing the sin that is in my nature. Oh, the Devil likes to let me dwell in that place regret, pain, hurt, and sorrow but it doesn't stop there.

​I am set free. My sins, big or small, old or new, - they are forgiven by the Grace of God. By the blood of Christ I am forgiven. Though I was lost in that place of darkness tonight, I see the light of day. I see the truth. My God is real. My God is my resting place. My God never wants me to be stuck in the pain of my past. He has, time and time again, shown me his mercy and grace. I am glad for the sorrow I feel tonight. I am glad to be reminded that I can't do anything without my God. He bears my burdens and wipes my tears.

Yes. I am broken but I am blessed. Yes. I am mess but I am his beautiful mess. Yes. I can not handle everything in my life but my God already has it handled for me. My job, my only job, is to love him, trust him and follow him wherever he leads.

I found him in my dreams again last night. That husband of mine. This would be a romantic thing if he were still alive and not haunting my dreams in only the way my dearest Charlie could.

I can't help but wonder why I dream of him. Is is because I will always love him? Or that I feel guilty for moving on with my life? I contemplate these things when I wake in the middle of the night in a mad hot sweat. Because, my dreams about him are most often actually nightmares. The jolt me awake with fear that I can't shake for a while.

That is right. Nightmares. Most often I dream that he is not really dead or that he comes back to life and he is very angry at me for pretty much every choice that I have made in my life since he passed away. His funeral? Of course he was angry about that. I should not have spent that much money on a funeral . Why didn't I just cremate him and stick him in a shoebox under the bed and spend the money on the kids instead. That is what he would have wanted.

Sometimes, I dream he comes back to life as a zombie. Okay, I am pretty sure that only happens after I binge watch to many episodes of The Walking Dead. Regardless, why can't I have a good dream about him? Why does he haunt me like this?

Honestly, I know that the nightmares happen because I loved him so very much and loosing him was a tragedy that will never leave me completely. I do feel guilty about moving on with my life, even though I know he would want me to live life to the fullest. He would want me and the kids to be happy. But, when you give your whole heart to someone and loose them there is always an empty part of your heart that you can't fill. I think the nightmares are just a reminder of that.

I suffer from depression and anxiety. I have all of my life. For the last 10 years I have been very consistent about taking my medication. Life has thrown some curveballs that have lead to periods of deeper depression and anxiety but for the most part, with medication and therapy when needed I am okay. But, sometimes I am not okay and that is what I want to share with you today.

In March, I started a seemingly harmless medication to help with my constant anemia. I won't go into the detail of the medication now, because TRUST me that will be a post of its own. Right away, I suspected that the medication was having a negative effect on my mood and anxiety but I tried to ignore it. Bad idea. By mid March, I could feel myself slipping back into the person I used to be. A person riddled with depression, irritability,negativity, and anxiety. I was constantly on the verge of tears - if you know me well, you know that I am NOT a crier so this was alarming. I felt like I was regressing back into a person that I never want to be again.

The absolute worst part, was dealing with the emotions and feelings that I could not seem to control. I knew that there was absolutely nothing wrong with my life at the moment but it FELT like everything was falling apart. I knew I was surrounded with friends and family that loved me but I FELT absolutely alone. It is a special kind of hell to know that your emotions and feelings are not on par with the reality of a situation.

I spent two days in bed. At first I thought I was just physically sick. I wanted to get up but I could not muster the energy to even walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I snapped at the kids for nothing. I cried over everything one moment and the next moment I felt... absolutely nothing. I battled feelings of worthlessness. By the end my secs day in bed I experienced a panic attack over absolutely NOTHING. I forced myself to face the facts. I was depressed and it was hell but I was not going to let it get the best of me.

I launched into research mode and discovered that the medication did contribute to anxiety and depression. I also discovered that it had the potential to interact with one of my current medication. I stopped taking it right away. I forced myself to get out of bed the next day armed with the knowledge that I would be okay again as soon as the medication was fully out of my system. Thankfully, it did not take long and I am back to being "the real" me again.

Which brings me to the point of this post. For years, I thought the depressed and anxiety riddled version of me was the REAL me. I thought I was overly emotional, angry, sad, pessimistic, and broken beyond hope. My recent experience with the return of the symptoms of my mental illness were a blessing because it reminded me who I really am or rather.. who I am not. I am not the emotions and feelings that I experience when I am depressed.

I am not my illness nor am I the symptoms of my illness. Yes, it affects me, it challenges me, it changes me, but it does not define me. My symptoms are not who I am or who I was created to be. I want to share this for those who are in a place of darkness, because I know that darkness. I know the hell that is depression and anxiety. But I also know that there is hope and healing. You will not be in that place forever. Where you are at one moment in time does not define WHO you are. DO not give up or give in to the lies that depression feeds into your soul. Seek help. Seek hope. Seek God. Seek the right medications and therapy when needed.

I have not been traveling as much as normal during the last 6 months and my poor blog has been neglected. However, I have been busy exploring (obsessing over) the 16 different personality types. It all started on Pinterest. I would see a clever quote that I really connected to and pin it. After a bit I noticed that a lot of my pins referenced INFJ. So, I was like what the heck? I launched into research mode. And, if you have ever seem me in research mode you know it how intense it can get!

This lead me to the Myers Briggs Personality types. Which is based on the Psychological Types published by Carl Jung in 1921 that categorized people into primary types of psychological functions. In the 1940s Katharine Cook Briggs and her daughter, Isabel Briggs Myers built upon the research developed by Jung and developed their own theory of psychological types showcasing 16 personalities.

So, I took one of the personality tests. Okay... I took 5 different ones. All in the name of research... (obsession) All the same results. ( I also forced everyone in my family to take the tests) I actually remember taking a personality test many years ago and getting the same results then. However, back then I was still at war with accepting myself and I did not like my results. This time, the difference is that instead of feeling boxed in or disappointed by my traits I am comforted and empowered. Mostly, I was like..... "Wait... there are other people out there like me? People who feel, think and do things like me? " ​

What exactly is a INFJ? Oh, wait.. it is me! Of course I am one of the rarest personality types! Only 1-3 % of the population have INFJ personality! That explains a few things.

I have always known I was an Introvert. We are a family of (mostly) introverts. That part of my personality is no surprise to me, but It can be surprise to other people because I do have a very social side to me. I love being around people, connecting to people, helping people but I also require my alone time. Without it, I am drained and exhausted. My alone time is for your safety. I enjoy my own company because there is always so much going on in my mind that no one else can understand because I can't seem to put all of my thoughts into spoken form. They just fall out of my mouth in some sort of mad ramble that leaves me feeling stupid.

Discovering that I am Intuitive was an eye opener and a life changer for me. I realized that I do tend to absorb the emotions of those around me. I feel what other people feel - sometimes without even realizing it. If they are stressed then I am stressed. Now that I am aware of this, I can step back from an intense emotional situation and remind myself that the emotions I am picking up are not necessarily mine. I can set healthy boundaries with people and situations that tend to overwhelm me and find a balance between their emotions and mine. I also know things - not in a physic sort of way. It is more that I simply pick up on things that other people miss, without even knowing that I am doing it. It is a gut instinct sort of thing and I have learned to listen to it because It is most often correct.

I have always know I was a feeler. I feel things deeply and make decisions based on feelings. I am also rational but if my feelings are ever pitted against my knowledge I will almost always go with my emotions or my gut instinct. Even If I can't logically explain why I do the things I do or make some of the choice that Ido.. I feel the reason and that works for me.

I hate conflict. I will go to great lengths to avoid it. I am also really bad at conflict. Seriously bad at conflict. If I am forced to engage in it the results can be anything from tears, to no visible emotion, to a fierce rage that no one should ever experience.

On top of that, I am overly sensitive and I don't respond well to criticism. It breaks me into a million pieces. Even if I logically know that I should not take things personally, and even I pretend not to... I ALWAYS take things personally. It is not healthy and I work at not taking things personally every single day. My sensitive side is a constant battle for me. I never want to loose the compassion that I have but after years of being told "you are to sensitive " I have learned to hide that part of myself. You probably won't see my tears or my pain but trust me they are mountains inside of me.

Next up... the Judging. WAIT!!! I don't want to be labeled a judger. At first glance, I rejected this but when I looked closer I do see this part of my personality clearly. It doesn't mean I judge people. It means I follow the rules. Yes, I was totally that kid in school who followed all the rules. Unless of course, the rules go against one of my deeply held values, then I am like forget the rules. I like to know why the rules exist. I like to make plans. I like to stick to the plan, and I have a deep need to be prompt and responsible. Those are all very true. It sounds very boring and uptight. I do have that impulsive streak when It comes to emotions that helps to balance it out a little. As I have grown older, I have learned to embrace the twists and turns that life throws into my plans. I know longer fall apart when my plans fall apart, but I still like it best when things go as planned. Which they don't.. most of the time!

My biggest a-ha moment was when I read about the INFJ Door Slam. I had actually become of aware of my tendency to be extremely close to someone and then after being hurt multiple times by that person actually reaching a point where I was just done with them. And I mean done. DONE! All of the deep affection just switched off and I cut them out of my life like we were never friends. I can pass them on the street and it is like they never existed as an important part of my life.

I saw this re occurring pattern in my life and it really started to bother me. I am in essence , an extremely loyal person. I value loyalty. It is a deep part of who I am. So, the idea that I could just reach a point where I turned that loyalty off really bothered me. I began to really question my mental health at this point. What kind of person does that? How can you love someone intensely one day and simply not care about them the next?

INFJ personality types do this. It is called the INFJ Door Slam. Now I am not saying it is 100% healthy but understanding why I do this (and that other people do it to!) has given me a deeper sense of who I am and why I do this.

So why? Why the door slam? INFJ's are sensitive, caring people who strive to help and love others. We care. We care a lot. INFJ's often neglect themselves to focus on those close to them. We absorb their emotions, problems and feelings and we want to help them. When we love, we love deeply regardless of how we are treated because we can always see the "good"and the "bad" inside everyone and we want to help them be the best they can be. This can lead to some unhealthy relationships. After being in a friendship or relationship that is repeatedly unhealthy, hurtful and sometimes abusive I will unconsciously reach a point in which I know I can not take anymore hurt.

The only way to do this is to simply shut them out of my life. It is an all or nothing situation. Allowing a repeatedly hurtful person in my life on any level will only lead to me being hurt even more. The Door Slam is not painless for me. Although it may seem to happen overnight, it is really a slow build up and it hurts me deeply to cut someone out of my life because I don't let a lot of people into my life to start with. The Door Slam is final. Once the door is closed, my emotions are off and there is no turning them back on. I think this is a safety mechanism of sorts, to help protect the sensitive soul of an INFJ.

The second type of Door Slam is much easier to understand. Unlike the first type of Door Slam, I have never felt bad about doing it. Okay, as long as I handled it in a reasonable manner. It goes like this - You hurt someone I care about and I am done with you. If you happen to do this on the wrong day you will see a very rare aggressive side of me that will leave you shocked at my out of character behavior. ​

Those are just of a few of the things that have been insightful to me as I have learned about my personality type. It is actually amazing to me that so much of many of the INFJ traits are so true about me. I can use the things that I have learned about my personality combined with my faith to make positive changes and embrace the way that God made me. He gave me strength and weaknesses and I am created in his image. This gives me hope that I am not the broken strange person that I have often felt I was.

My youngest is 4 and I love her with every ounce of my heart and soul. She is not my most challenging child nor is she an easy child like my two middle boys. Each stage of her independence comes with a challenge. For me. For my patience.

Welcome, to the whine-cry stage. It is not a pleasant place for either of to be in. Amber is having trouble dealing with her frustrations and instead of talking or asking for help she melts into this state of whine-cry. It must have its own private language because I can't understand a word of what is going on. It is combine with some sort of cry scream that beats against my ear drums.

It began this morning (so early) when she attempted to take of her shirt. It got stuck. I know it is stuck. She knows it is stuck. The whine cry begins and escalates to the point that everyone in the house is now awake and looking for ear plugs.

I attempt calm rational talk. I know this will not work it never does. "Amber is your shirt stuck? Do you need help? The whine cry is now in full force and paired with a very unpleasant look. She knows I know what is wrong. I know she knows. She refuses to ask for help or use any type of words. The whine cry escalates and she adds a stomp. The stop end the calm part of me. Now MY voice escalates."JUST. ASK. FOR. HELP. I will help you. Why are you just standing there screaming?"The whine cry goes up a pitch. I leave the room. The whine cry is not to be left behind. It follows me.

A rational part of me (the part that just wants the voice to stop) reasons that I should just help her with her dress. The stubborn part of me argues that If I don't stop responding to the whine cry monster it will never go away. Amber will be 32 and having a whine cry fit at her future place of work. So. I. Must. Be. Strong.

"Please just ask for help. or stop that noise. Please."

This battle of wills continues for about 5 minutes. I decide I know longer care about whining this fight. I just want it to stop. I stomp over and help her pull her arms out of her shirt. Whine cry stops immediately."Can I have you phone Mom? Please?" Says my 4 year old princess with perfectly clear words and not a whine cry in sight.

There are moments in life that stick with you. Sometimes for days, months, years or even a lifetime. I had one of those moments after returning from a women retreat and being away from my kids.I was tired, emotionally raw, and a bit grumpy when I walked into a big mess in my living room. Now, honestly- it was not the worst mess my living room has ever seen but it was not good. There were smashed cookies and spilled drinks on the floor. Shoes and haphazardly tossed clothing mixed in with about half of the contents of my daughters room. Cat food in play dishes and that doesn't even cover it all. It had been created almost entirely by my almost 4 year old daughter. I was more irritated at the older children than her. They had been given specific chores to get done before I returned and that included making sure that she had helped clean up any mess she made in the living room. There was a list of chores, to do’s and meals posted on the fridge… and no one had even glanced at it. I did not yell or scream but all the people in my house knew I was not a happy camper. I know I said something to my daughter about not being allowed to play in the living room anymore because she did not clean up after herself. I don’t remember everything I said, but do remember my daughters heart wrenching words in response to my word and actions. Soft spoken words that sliced my heart in to tiny pieces and have echoed though my mind for days now. “Do you still love me?” A tiny voice with words as heavy as a ton of bricks. Of course, I dropped to my knees and looked into her amazing blue eyes. “Of course, I still love you. Nothing you could ever do would make me not love you!” At first, I struggled with some major mommy guilt. I mean, I came home and instead of letting my precious children know how much I had missed them while I was gone I had made my child wonder if I still loved her. Major mom fail but I used that moment to flip the switch. I went from upset mom mode to mom focused on her children’s heart and soul needs. I forgave them for disobedience and myself for my poor attitude. Then I spend some time with them, really focusing on them. We played pretend and spent time talking about things like Pokemon, white dinosaurs, and princesses. The day wrapped to an end and things were okay again. Except that moment and those words kept returning to my mind. Not in a mom feeling guilty sort of way, but in a hey, listen up there is something more to this way. I was reminded that just as I felt that gut wrenching love and pain for my daughter when she asked If I still loved her, Jesus feels that way about me.

When I fail miserably. When I doubt. When I sin. When I repeat the same stupid mistakes over and over. When I disobey like my children did. When my heart cries out from the guilt and disappointment of my own sin. God. Still. Loves. Me. Oh, how He loves me. I could not fathom how my precious child could think I would love her less over such a thing. I can’t help find hope that even as much as I love my children, God has a love for me that is even bigger than that. That is pretty big love.

So, the next time you fall, fail, flat out disobey and find yourself buried in the weight of your sin, take heart, dear child of God, you are loved. You have a father aching to lean down to you, take you in his arms and love you regardless of your sins.

My grief is one of the hardest things to write about. To write about it is to admit that it is still very real to me and I struggle with it more than I care to admit. It has been almost two years ago since my husband passed away. Somedays it is still hard to breath and other days It is easy to ignore the truth by pressing thoughts and emotions away. The truth is that no matter deep I stuff the many emotions that surround his death, the reality never really leaves me. Loosing Charlie was more than just loosing the person I loved, it was loosing a part of who I am and leaving behind the life that I thought that I had. I lost the only person who loved and was as deeply invested in our children as me. It was also loosing the one person I have ever found who chose to love me exactly as I was even after seeing me ( many times) at my very worst and lowest points. I could go on for pages about the things I lost with out him. There is also a truth that loosing so much as reminded me of just how quickly life, dreams, and hope can change. In one moment everything can change. My God never changes. He is constant and strong. In my weakness, he is strong. I can't sugarcoat the pain with scripture. It hurts. Everyday it hurts. I have blamed myself, God and the evil world. I have questioned and struggled. I still hurt but I am okay with that. The answers I have are not the answers I want. There is no easy way to walk through grief. It is painful, messy, and full of emotions I don't like. But, It is real. It reminds me that my God suffered and died for me. My grief and pain make me weak and when I rely on God I find the strength to go on. That said, I can't lie. I can. I try to lie to myself most, but I have made an honest promise to God and myself that I will share my story honestly. Because, it is not just my story to tell. My life is ultimately God's story. I don't know the exact ending but I know I have a God who cares, who loves deeply and walks every messy step with me. My story is not that great, but the work of God in my life.... that is amazing. Back to the truth about the grief in my life. Most days, I am fine. Somedays, I still hide under the covers, bury myself in frivolous things and pretend I am okay when I am not. There are a few days, when I completely loose it. I succumb to the pain and I wallow in it. Funny thing is... those are also the days that I come to the end of myself. No one but me, my pain and my God. Somehow, my joy comes in the morning. My god may not heal my pain with the wave of a wand, but he kneels down beside me and mops up my tears. He grants me a peace that is beyond words.

Things happen to me. Not just ordinary everyday things but strange things. Things that I don't see happening to other people. Or... perhaps they are just better at hiding the strange than I am. Yes, I am one of those strange people. Birds have indeed pooped on my head. One of my children fell out a window as a infant (I will share that story later! Don't judge me till you hear how it happened).Strange things happen to me. All I can do is cringe, blush, and laugh.

Today a strange thing happened to me in our children's sunday school class. I can't imagine this exact thing has happened to anyone else! My daughter loves stickers. She loves to stick them on everything, including me and I let her. She found a little pad of yellow foam letter stickers and stuck them to my arm in a nice long random line. She is three and she loves to put things in rows as much as she loves stickers.

Class went on and I forgot about the stickers on my arm until this happened...

"Hey, what's on your arm?" innocent child in the classroom asks me

"Oh" I say, glancing down at my arm "Just some letters Amber put on my arm."

As I am looking at my arm I discover that many of the letters have fallen off. 4 letters are left. The spell a word. It is not a nice word. I am now flashing to a room of small children. Who thank goodness... did not notice what it said before I tucked my arm out of sight.

Want to see it? I have left the third letter out for your protection but you will get the point.

Nice? Right. I told you strange things happen to me. By the way, doesn't my arm look super hairy in this photo? That is pretty strange. That reminds me of something strange I did when I was a young teen. I shaved my arms. Perhaps that is why they are so hairy now.

Life & Stuff

Life is made of moments. Big, small, monumental, minuscule, life changing, or mundane- these moments define who we are, who we will be and if we take time to really SEE them we will find nugget of wisdoms among them. This is a few of my moments. I hope they inspire, uplift and help you to see your own moments and cherish and learn form them.